


your faithless love's the only hoax i believe in

by tigerlilycorinne



Series: AUgust 2020 Short Fic [23]
Category: Sea of Ink and Gold - Traci Chee
Genre: Almost post-canon, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arc and Ed, Arc loved Ed, Arc/Ed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness, Getting Together, M/M, almost canon compliant, marrying for politics, so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26068837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlilycorinne/pseuds/tigerlilycorinne
Summary: Edouar gave a jolt, nearly upsetting the candle at his arm, almost getting his coat into the flickering flame.Of course.There was no law that would in any circumstance allow a member of the royal family to be executed. Even if that person was on the execution stand for the attempted murder of a member of the royal family.Of course, Arc was this much trouble. When had he not been?
Relationships: Eduardo Corabelli/Arcadimon
Series: AUgust 2020 Short Fic [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856617
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: AUgust 2020





	your faithless love's the only hoax i believe in

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I took the idea of “arranged marriage” and I– uh. It’s arranged, yeah. But it’s arranged by the people in the marriage? In other words, marriage. Title from Taylor Swift's "hoax".

Edouar buried his head in his head in his hands, the words of the court officials in his ears. Arcadimon had been found guilty, which was… well, he _was_ guilty, but…

But nothing, really. But Ed was the _king_ and Arc was his… was whatever they were. Ed groaned, grabbing at his hair again, hoping no one was around to see the famed king who seemed to rise from the dead right when the fight needed him the most this much of a wreck in the empty courtroom. 

The people had all left, Arc had been taken away in chains, looking resigned and trying to send some sort of desperate message to Ed with his gaze. 

What had it been? Ed tried not to get distracted by thinking about Arc himself– he had to come up with a way to delay Arc’s execution. 

The council had overridden Ed’s pardon, that much was obvious, but Ed had always tried his best to pay attention in Law classes and never quite had been able to hold onto all of the details, so he had no idea how to get Arc out of the hanging he was due for tomorrow. 

Even the thought of it sent sharp pains to the center of his heart, just like the thought of living happily ever after with Arc– there was just no winning.

 _Living happily ever after._

Edouar gave a jolt, nearly upsetting the candle at his arm, almost getting his coat into the flickering flame.

 _Of course._

There was no law that would in any circumstance allow a member of the royal family to be executed. Even if that person was on the execution stand for the attempted murder of a member of the royal family.

Of course, Arc was this much trouble. When had he not been? 

The moment Ed had laid eyes on Arc, his heart had done something it had never done before, and it took Ed a couple of years, but he knew soon that it was love, that it was _I want him_ and _I want him to want me back._ The only problems being: One– the Corabelli Curse, known to kill every Corabelli and any beloved they took on, and two– Arc was trying to kill him.

In the sweetest, easiest way possible, in the way that allowed Ed to pretend he didn’t see it, for Ed to pretend he still thought them best childhood friends, not a spy-assassin and his affectionate facade slowly luring a royal heir into his fated death with smiles and poisoned tea.

He didn’t even know Arcadimon, not really. Arcadimon, who had a whole other life Ed had never heard about, even if he’d known Arc had another life, because he’d never said a word. Arcadimon, who, for all Ed knew, could’ve faked every aspect of himself, except.

Except.

 _Except in the end,_ Ed’s mind told him, again and again. _In the end…_

Ed shook his head, hard. He didn’t want Arc to die.

He hadn’t figured out why, yet.

Maybe because he was still in love with the fake personality Arc had showed him, or maybe because he was still hoping that personality would turn out to be real after all– for who was to say how much of it had been false and how much had been genuine? 

Maybe he just wanted answers, maybe he wanted more time, and more closure before the boy he loved and the boy he hated and the boy who tried to kill him and the boy who tried to save him died. 

Maybe he was getting distracted again, and he wouldn’t even be able to save Arc if he kept thinking himself in circles, and maybe he was only thinking in circles because the clock had hit past mid-night and the moon had made good progress across the sky, shining into the court like a warning song.

Ed stood.

And he made his way over to the jail cells.

“Arcadimon,” he said. He couldn’t say Arc’s nickname. Not now, not after everything, not before anything else.

Arc was curled against the bars of his cell, the darkness of the cold stone hallway seeming to seep into his body, into the bags under his eyes and the coldness in his eyes, into the defeated posture, into the lines of dirt that rubbed off on Arc’s already dirty, tattered clothes from the none-too-clean bars that separated Arc from the rest of the corridor. Separated Arc from Ed.

“Ed,” Arc murmured, tipping his head up. His hair was messy, no longer the perfectly groomed picture of the reserved friend, holding back the reckless soul of his royal prince, his king, the boy he won over so many years ago. “Edouar. My king.”

“I’m not your king,” Ed said. “I’m… you’re not my subject.”

“Ed,” Arc whispered again, like his name was a prayer. Ed felt himself go warm at his tone in spite of himself, a seedling of feeling worming its way into Ed’s broken heart, through the cracks in it. “Ed.” He looked up, blinking into the light. “What brings you here?”

He still talked like he belonged on a throne so much more than Ed ever would. 

“Trying to figure out how to get you free.”

Arc laughed, almost to himself, a bittersweet sound. “You’re too good,” he whispered, hauling himself up to stand, pressing himself against the bars. “I’m past saving, my love.”

His face came as close as it could, and Ed was already closer to the door of the cell than he should’ve been, drawn to Arc like a moth to a flame, like the sun following the moon around and around and around. Even then, Arc didn’t reach for him. Just curled his fingers around the grimy bars, like he needed something to steady himself. 

Ed shook his head, a war raging inside of himself. _Say it. Don’t say it, don’t ever say it._ “I came up with something,” he forced out. “You won’t like it.”

“Ed,” Arcadimon said again, like he couldn’t get enough of Ed’s nickname in his mouth, like saying it enough times would bring them back to the simple years, when all they were was friends who couldn’t admit how much they meant to each other. “I’ll love you past tomorrow, but I won’t live past midday.”

But that had never been the case for Arc, had it? He’d been sent over to befriend Prince Edouar, the heir to the throne, and had been at his mission since day one.

“Marriage,” Ed blurted. “If you marry me, they won’t be able to kill you. Treason.”

Arc stared at him, his face shadowed, his eyes glinting brightly, something desperate and hopeless and tender in his eyes. “I _won’t_ like it?”

Ed felt himself flush at what Arc meant. That Arc would ever _like_ to be married with Ed, that Arc would ever… feel something like that for someone. For _him._ Even now, Arc had the upper hand somehow, finding ways to tie Ed in knots in his presence.

“Just tell me yes or no,” he pressed, running a hand over his eyes and swallowing hard. Trying not to break, trying not to make a decision that would break him later, trying to pretend he wasn’t already a broken a million times over, trying his very best to hold all of his pieces together.

“Yes,” Arc whispered immediately, “Yes, Ed, of course, I– Ed. I’m so sorry.” He reached for Ed then, the faintest flutter of his fingers against Ed’s jaw, brushing against his cheek, the light caress feeling like the whole world was centered around Arc’s fingertips. 

Ed stepped back.

“I’ll find some ring,” he said. He wasn’t using his mother’s. He wasn’t using the royal ring. Arc wasn’t like that, perfect and royal and right. He was wrong and confusing and it felt against everything to take something like that and pair it with his mother’s beautiful wedding ring. 

And his mother had died, and her husband, too, and he didn’t want to give Arc anything stained with bad energy. Even though everything between them was stained with bad energy. 

He didn’t know. _He didn’t know_. Ed didn’t know _anything._

But the sun was beginning to peek its first rays over, casting it’s very lightest of beams across the land, and Ed was tired, tired of staying up all night, tired of thinking about how to save Arc and how he felt about Arc and how he should feel about Arc and what he was going to do before his young, fated death.

So he found some jeweled ring– it could’ve been the wrong, it could’ve been the right one, what did it matter, everything else was wrong– and he brought it back to the cell.

“I can just give it to you,” Ed said, because he didn’t have a proposal in himself for this man.

“Let me propose,” Arc said immediately. “Let me ask you.”

Ed looked at him. “Why?”

Arc met his eyes, his throat bobbing and the rims of his eyes wet. “Because I already know what I want.”

 _And I don’t_ , Ed thought. It was oddly considerate, even if pitying, condescending, because he didn’t think Arc meant it that way. He thought he could read Arc– though who knew, really– and the Arc he knew meant _let’s see if you can bring yourself to do it. And if you can’t, let me die. Let me go. It’s okay._

Wordlessly, Edouar handed Arcadimon the ring.

Arcadimon knelt.

Ed felt his heart in his chest, heavy and light and everything was wrong except for one thing, but he didn’t know what it was. He wondered if he’d be able to do this, or if when Arc asked him he’d find he couldn’t.

Arc asked him.

Ed said yes.

The court was in outrage when they found Arc later that morning, curled and asleep against the bars of his jail cell, his hand on the shoulder of their king, who slept with his back to the grimy stone wall, a new ring on his finger. 

But they couldn’t do anything, because _treason_ , Ed said, trying to look as kingly as possible. Beside him, Arc bowed his head. Ed apologized to the judge, and then to the council, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be sorry.

“I have you now, I guess,” he said when they entered his rooms and Arc came out of the bath washed and dry, smelling of rose soap and looking years younger. 

“You’ve always had me,” Arcadimon said.

“No I haven’t,” Ed said, because he hadn’t. 

Arc sighed, his hands in his lap and his eyes cast down, sitting in one of Ed’s chairs. Ed looked at him for a long moment, perched there uncomfortably, his shoulders pulled in, his face drawn, his fingers fiddling with the string loose on the sleeve of the robe the maids had provided him.

He waved Arc over with a single gesture of his hand, and Arc made his way over to sit tentatively on the edge of Ed’s bed, still fiddling with the string. 

“You’ll unravel your whole robe,” Ed said, tired of being upset. Tired of everything. He just wanted something he knew he could fall into. He had no one for that.

Arc laughed softly to himself, self-deprecating. “I never learn, do I? Did you know they found me out because of the thread I was pulling when I was with you that day?”

Ed remembered Arc’s flushed cheeks, sitting with Ed, fiddling still with the thread of his string. He’d loved it, then, the one break in Arc’s flawless composure. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Arc turned to look at him. He was half a foot away. He was close enough to kiss. “They can See histories. They… could see the history of that thread, and how I loved you from tugging it so loose.”

“Hmmm,” Ed said, still looking at Arc. He told himself it was because he was determined to stand his ground, and not because he was afraid if he tried to look away, he would find he couldn’t, after all. “Testament to their power, I suppose.”

“Or my love for you.”

“Arc,” Ed said abruptly, “I don’t know what I want.” It was a relief to say it, to finally let it out into the open– _I don’t know what I want, don’t ask me to choose anything, or even say anything worth anything, please. Please._

Arc only smiled at him, the gentle smile he always smiled when he offered Ed a hand, or looked over him fondly as they made their way through rooms or hallways or fields. “That’s alright,” he said. “I know what I want.”

“Me,” Ed said dully, unsure if he wanted it to be true or not, unsure whether it _was_ true or not.

“To be happy.” Arc leaned his shoulder against Ed for a moment, setting them both off balance, like a pair of giggling schoolboy friends, wobbling on a messy bed, shoving at each other. “You don’t have to do this. Send me off, if you want. We don’t have to…” he swallowed and didn’t finish his sentence, but his eyes went to the ring around Ed’s finger, which Ed hadn’t taken off. Wouldn’t take off.

 _Send me off_.

The day Ed had tried over and over to forget came through his mind. They day he’d avoided thinking about since it had happened, because he didn’t know what he’d think if he thought too hard about it… now what was he to do but turn and look it straight in the eye?

He remembered asking if Arc had brought his tea, and Arc had said no. No, who needed tea, it was alright, they could do without tea, couldn’t they? And he remembered taking down the bottle himself, and Arc bursting through the door and asking him _why, why why_ , and he’d said _you were taking too long_ , and Arc’s face was something he’d remember forever: shock and horror and endless regret, and then Arc had him out the window and was begging him to never come back, run away, stop being king, avoid the curse of the royal family, _just be Ed_ , and whatever he did, stay alive.

Ed hovered his hand over Arc’s fiddling one, flicking his fingers in request, and Arc dropped the string immediately, turning his hand palm up, open. Trembling. 

They were both looking at their hands now, maybe because they couldn’t bear to look at each other.

Or maybe because what mattered was that Ed slowly wove his fingers between Arc’s.

“You’ll be stuck with me,” Arc whispered shakily. 

“And you with me. The Curse will kill us both, you know.”

“Maybe I think you’re worth it.”

Arc never said things like this– that Ed was anything certain, that they were something Ed had always longed for them to be– it was unspoken that it would seep into the shadows of who they were, loving and never speaking of it.

“I don’t know who you are,” Ed said.

Arc made a sound. Ed looked up from their hands. Arc was crying.

“If we’re married I’ll show you,” Arc whispered pleadingly, “I _will_. I’ll teach you everything about me until there isn’t one last secret of mine you don’t know, Ed, I promise you.” He gasped and wiped at his eyes, and for every time Ed had wished for Arc to show some form of emotion past his smiles that Ed clung to like treasures, this was _horrid_ , and his heart ached, and there wasn’t an ounce of goodness or satisfaction about seeing Arc fall apart. “Let me show you, please,” Arc was begging, “Let me try.”

And then Ed was sliding to kneel in front of him, cupping his face, wiping away his tears. “Don’t cry, don’t cry,” he found himself saying, “Don’t cry, Arc. We’ll be alright.”

And as soon as he said it, he was sure of it. He knew it was true. 

Ed couldn’t bear it anymore; he gave in to the tugging on his heart that hadn’t ceased since the moment he stepped foot in the jail cell, the call of his heart to this man. He drew Arc down to him and kissed him gently on the mouth. Arc kissed him back roughly, desperately, clutching at him so tightly it nearly hurt. 

“Don’t cry,” Ed said again.

“I love you,” Arc whispered back, “I love you.”

“Yes,” Ed said, “I guess you do.”

He settled himself on the bed, letting himself fall into Arc’s arms, letting Arc hold him. 

“I’m sure.” Ed ran his thumb over the ring on his finger. “Of this. Of you.”

Arcadimon became king the next day. 

Ed knew they would be alright. Arc loved him, and in spite of everything, Ed loved Arc, too.

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom needs so much more content... please... is anyone out there? Please, if you have any recs, hit me up on tumblr [@tigerlilycorinne](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tigerlilycorinne).


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